


VIP Status

by ScoffingAtGravity



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: A con attendee is generally awful, Alternate Universe - Human, Chidi is stressed af, David Tennant and Catherine Tate appear, Eleanor is entertained, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fights, Michael and Vicky are humans, Not Michael, Other, Rare Pairings, Swearing, They're both assholes, Vicky punches someone, comic con au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScoffingAtGravity/pseuds/ScoffingAtGravity
Summary: Every person with a stature on the shorter side of the spectrum is intimately familiar with the frustration caused by tall people sitting in front of them. Usually, some arrangement can be made to rectify that problem. That...does not happen with these two.





	VIP Status

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my best friend for proofreading this for me, GoodJanet for encouraging this venture, and another friend for discussing convention panels with me (as I've only ever attended one). I wrote this with 3 Men and a Baby era Danson in mind as Michael's appearance, but feel free to imagine him at whatever age you prefer.

Craning her neck in an attempt to get a better view, Vicky shifted in her seat a moment before glaring at the back of the man’s head. He was too damn tall. Honestly, what kind of asshole sat in the first row when he was a practical giant? She didn’t pay for VIP seating only to have a blocked view of the panelists.

 

Huffing, Vicky leaned forward and poked his shoulder. “Hey, trade places with me,” she demanded.

 

The man turned and lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “No.” He gestured the empty seat a few seats down. “Why don’t you just sit over there?”

 

She grit her teeth. “Because then I’d only get a view of the _left_ half of the panel, and I prefer center.”

 

“Well, then you should’ve arrived sooner.” He spun back to face the stage, where the moderator had just arrived and began explaining proper audience behavior.

 

Jaw clenching, she leaned forward and hissed in his ear, “Look, asshole, you’re blocking my view. _Move._ ”

 

“No,” he hissed back, “switch seats with someone else, or sit in the back with the non-VIPs.”

 

A growl reverberated in the back of her throat. It was personal now. “I am a Ferrari,” she stated, offense dripping from her tone, “and you don’t put a Ferrari in the garage.”

 

A bespectacled man in his row fixed her a perplexed frown while a blonde lifted her eyebrows in amusement.

 

“What if there’s hail?” the man questioned, finally turning back around.

 

“Invest in a carport,” she threw back.

 

“What about thieves?”

 

“I live in a gated community.”

 

“What if someone breaks in?”

 

“The house is monitored, and I have guard dogs.”

 

They held eye contact for a long moment before he shook his head. “I’m still not moving. I’m sitting with my friends.” He faced the front again. “Find another seat.”

 

Vicky’s eyes darted to the stage, and she let out a whispered curse. Five minutes until it started, and she didn’t want to miss a moment of the panel. A sudden idea popped into her mind. She wrestled with it a moment before making a decision. Squaring her shoulders, she stood up and squeezed past the other seated VIPs in her row. Her gaze zeroed in on her target, and she began her approach. A few ‘excuse me’s and a knowing look from the blonde later, she stood in front of him. Before he could ask what she was doing, Vicky sat down on his lap. She could hear the blonde snickering, but didn’t avert her stare from his wide, blue eyes.

 

An excited man’s face emerged in her peripheral vision, and he nudged the other man’s shoulder. “Michael, you didn’t tell me you met someone! Good for you, dawg!”

 

Michael briefly shook his head at the other man before returning his attention to her. “ _What_ are you doing?”

 

Vicky shrugged and shifted so her back was to him. “You told me to find another seat, so I did.”

 

A beat of silence followed before, “I didn’t mean my lap.”

 

“Shush. The panel’s about to start.” She felt Michael squirm underneath her. “Relax. I’m not going to start feeling you up. I just want to watch the damn panel without someone’s head blocking the way.”

 

The blonde let out a bark of laughter that had the bespectacled man elbowing her with a stern, “Eleanor!”

 

“What, Chidi? This is amazing.” She snapped a quick picture with her phone. “I’m tweeting it.”

 

“Eleanor,” Chidi groaned. Conflicted eyes moved over to Vicky and Michael, as if he were contemplating the proper protocol for when a stranger sat in his friend’s lap. “Um, are you sure you wouldn’t rather sit somewhere else? I could take your previous seat?”

 

Michael nodded furiously. “Yes, good idea! Let’s do that!”

 

Chidi moved to stand, but Eleanor grabbed his arm. “No, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened this weekend. Let it continue.”

 

“Eleanor,” Chidi scolded, “Michael is clearly uncomfortable. It is not ethical to exploit that for our own amusement.”

 

“I agree with Chidi,” a woman piped up from Eleanor’s other side.

 

Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Don’t act as if you’re not eating this up, Tahani!”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“Liar!”

 

The man from earlier gasped. “You guys brought snacks?! Give me some!”

 

“Jason, that’s not what she meant.”

 

“Aw, man!”

 

“I have snacks, Jason!”

 

“Janet, you’re the best!”

 

“Enough,” Vicky commanded, silencing the group. “I’m not moving, and the panel just started.”

 

Chidi sent Michael a helpless look and sat back in his seat. “I’m sorry. I tried.”

 

Eleanor grinned. “Yeah, sorry, bud,” she said, leaning over to pat Michael’s arm.

 

“Traitor,” he muttered, resigning himself to the situation.

 

Vicky smirked at her victory before switching her focus to the panelists. When David Tennant stepped out and winked at the fans, all thoughts of her victory vanished, and she cheered along with everyone else.

 

“I’d rather see Peter Capaldi,” Michael muttered behind her.

 

Not everyone, apparently. Brows drawing low over her eyes, Vicky kept her volume low as she inquired, “If you’re not a fan of his, why didn’t you just let me have your seat?”

 

“I told you: my friends.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Plus, I like Doctor Who, and Jessica Jones.”

 

They fell into silence as David politely greeted the moderator, and they engaged in light banter. The Scotsman’s eyes scanned the crowd, and he smiled. “Oh, we’ve got quite a good-looking group today.” His gaze paused on Michael and Vicky. “Ah, a happy couple! How are you guys doing?”

 

Just as Vicky prepared to explain the situation, she felt Michael’s arms slide around her and pull her firmly to his chest. His chin fell on her right shoulder, and she caught his grin from the corner of her eye. Her body locked in surprise.

 

“Oh, we keep falling more and more in love every day,” Michael cheerfully answered. He turned his megawatt grin in her direction. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

 

Eleanor snorted.

 

He wasn’t winning that easily. Vicky covered his arms with her own, and pressed her fingernails down hard on his forearms. Her lips twitched at the light hiss he emitted, and she smiled back at him. “You bet, honey.” An idea came to her, and snuggled back into him. She’d beat him at his own game. “My boyfriend is so sweet. He brought me here for our sixth month anniversary. He’s so thoughtful that way.” She planted a kiss on Michael’s cheek.

 

Michael blinked at her in surprise and blushed.

 

“Aw, that’s sweet! Good for you two!” David cheered.

 

“Congrats,” the moderator added. “On that note, let’s bring out our other guest. We have Catherine Tate.” The crowd cheered, but David’s was the loudest.

 

Catherine emerged, gave a smile and wave to the crowd, and accepted David’s hug. “You look good, mate.”

 

“So do you.”

 

“There was an error in the system, so John Barrowman will sadly not be one of our panelists this evening. He’s handling an overflow of photo ops, so,” the moderator clapped his hands together, “let’s get started. Form an orderly line behind the microphone if you have a question for one or both our guests.”

 

Vicky bit her lip in concentration and tried to think of a question David probably hadn’t been asked before. Suddenly, she had it. She tapped Michael’s arm. “I have a question.”

 

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Not for _you._ For David. Let me up.” Michael’s arms slipped from around her waist. “Thank you.” She pushed herself off his lap and started making her way over to the microphone, which had a small line already. As she settled into place behind a Dirk Gently cosplayer, a hand slipped into hers. She put on her fiercest glare to send the perpetrator running. When she saw their face, she bit back a groan. “Of course.”

 

“You didn’t think your boyfriend of _six months_ would be there for moral support as you asked your question? I’m hurt,” he proclaimed, placing his free hand over his heart.

 

Noticing the stares of nearby people and not wanting to let him win, Vicky switched her expression into something sweet and pulled him closer. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I know how starved you are for attention.”

 

Michael’s mouth gaped for a second before it pulled into a bashful grin. “Only yours.” A few people within hearing distance aww’ed, and he winked at her.

 

Vicky flushed and turned her attention back to the stage. As much as she wanted to win the contest of wills, she wanted to capture every moment of the panel. She did her best to ignore the soft circles Michael was rubbing on her hand and to keep heat rising to her cheeks. He stopped some time during the fourth question-and-answer. Two stories later, it was Vicky’s turn at the microphone.

 

“Oh, it’s the couple! Hi, guys!” David greeted. He turned to Catherine. “It’s their sixth month together, and they came here to celebrate. Isn’t that fantastic?”

 

Catherine nodded. “So, what’s your question?”

 

Vicky unconsciously gripped Michael’s hand for support in fighting down her nerves. “My question is for David: since you’re already on DisneyXD because of DuckTales, what are the chances of an appearance on Milo Murphy’s Law? The show has a recurring Doctor Who parody with Doctor Zone, and the B plot includes time travelers, so…it’s a matter of time before the references become more overt, right?”

 

“Oh, that’s a good question. What’s your name?”

 

“Vicky.”

 

“Well, Vicky, I’d love to do some voice work with Dan & Swampy. At this point, it’s all a matter of when and if they ask me to be a part of the show. You know, Community had a similar thing, but they, sadly, never asked me to appear in an episode. Maybe I’ll make the cut this time!” He chuckled.

 

“Hey, I’m on DuckTales, too! Maybe they’ll get both of us on that show. We could team up again.”

 

“Ooh, I’d like that. Somebody tweet that idea to Dan & Swampy. We’re willing and available.” He shared a laugh with Catherine. “Thanks for the question.”

 

Vicky smiled and nodded. She went to pull Michael back to their seat when Catherine called out.

 

“Oi! Does your boyfriend have a question? Preferably, one directed solely at me?”

 

Vicky halted her movements and stared up at Michael. Did he have a question?

 

Michael’s mouth quirked up, and then he leaned down enough for the microphone to pick up his voice. “Yeah, sure. I have a question for you.”

 

“All right! Let’s hear it in then-what’s your name?”

 

“Michael.”

 

“What’s your question, Michael?”

 

“How much can we expect to see of Magica De Spell in the rest of the season, am I right in assuming the season finale involves Magica being freed, and when will the show return?”

 

Catherine whistled low. “Lot of questions. I can’t say much about what happens plot-wise, but definitely expect to see more Magica, and…you may or may not be onto something with that theory about the finale.” She gave an exaggerated wink. “As for when the show will return, I don’t know. Do you, David?”

 

“No, unfortunately. It’s quite an odd scheduling system DisneyXD keeps. I expect it’ll be relatively soon, but I can’t say for sure.”

 

“Well, there you have it: nobody except Disney knows! All we know is some time this year.”

 

“Okay, thank you.” Michael let Vicky pull him back toward their row. He followed her down the row and past his friends. Eleanor winked up at him, and he smirked back. Without being asked, he sat down in the seat first. Vicky positioned herself on his lap once more, and he immediately secured his arms around her.

 

“You’re not going to win this that easily,” Vicky muttered, twisting her body so her side was pressed against his chest and her head rested on his shoulder.

 

“Oh?” He looked down at her. “Looks like it from where I’m sitting.”

 

“I could say the same thing.” She wiggled a little to prove her point. “You’re not fighting me about seating anymore.”

 

He shook his head. “That was just the battle. _This_ is the war.”

 

She inclined her head in agreement, and confirmed what had been unspoken since the moment he declared them a couple. “True…so first one to pull back is the chicken?”

 

“Yes.”

 

They overheard Tahani whisper to Eleanor, “they’re practically flirting now!” and Eleanor’s responding question of, “well, she’s in his lap, so what else are they going to do? Talk about baking recipes?”

 

Vicky took advantage of Michael’s distraction to move her head from his shoulder to the crook of his neck. She lifted a hand to Michael’s chest to steady herself, and let her other arm fall onto his on her waist.

 

Feeling her lips brush the hollow of his throat, Michael swallowed. He made eye contact with Chidi, whose expression warred between discouraging their actions and discomfort at addressing it. Michael’s eyes dropped down to the top of Vicky’s head, and he could see her victorious grin. Any consideration of the ethics of the situation vanished. He let a thumb slip beneath Vicky’s shirt, and gently stroked the inch of skin above her pants.

 

Vicky’s grin disappeared as she suppressed a sharp inhale. That fucker, she thought. Not to be one-upped, she pressed her lips firmly to his throat and stretched to trail them up to his ear. “Beat that,” she breathed, upon reaching her destination. All concerns about paying attention to the panel disappeared.

 

His hands gripped her waist just a bit tighter as he took a steadying breath. Nostrils flaring, he replied, “challenge accepted”, and tilted her chin up to crash his mouth against hers.

 

However Michael’s friends reacted went unnoticed by both, and Vicky’s hands clenched around the material of Michael’s shirt. Her tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip, and he honest to god moaned. Blood rushed to both of their faces, but neither pulled away. Instead, he responded in kind, and his lips followed the path to the underside of her jaw. He nipped the soft flesh there, and her fingers flexed.

 

Not to be outdone, Vicky directed his mouth back to hers, and deepened the kiss. She tilted her head as her tongue teased against his lips, which he parted. One of his arms moved from around her waist, and she felt his hand cup the left side of her face. Both their eyes closed as their tongues met. Her hand slid up Michael’s chest and came around to the nape of his neck. Scraping her nails against the skin there, she carded her fingers through his hair and gripped firmly, but not painfully.

 

Michael gasped into her mouth, and, before he could reciprocate, a hand shoved his shoulder hard. His body pitched forward at the force of the shove, and he broke the kiss to keep Vicky from falling. Blue eyes quickly finding her brown ones, he silently asked if she was okay, and, once verifying she was, they turned simultaneously to glare at the offender. “ _What_ is your problem?!”

 

“I’m trying to listen to them talk, and you’re over here making out like teenagers!”

 

Vicky scoffed at the man. “Then don’t watch, perv!”

 

“ _I’m_ the pervert? The two of you were practically putting on a show! I don’t care if it is your anniversary. Knock it off!”

 

“No,” Michael said, shaking his head.

 

Chidi clutched his stomach and muttered, “oh, no. We’re going to get kicked out. I know it. I just know it.”

 

“We’ll make out if we want to, and you’ll just have to deal with it.” Vicky rested her elbow on Michael’s shoulder in an act of solidarity.

The man stood up from his seat and gripped Vicky’s arm in an attempt to pull her off Michael. “You should be sitting in your own chairs.”

 

Chidi gaped at the man. “Sir, that is unethical, and-!”

 

“Fuck off!” Distracted by Chidi, he didn’t notice Vicky’s fist coming for him. The contact knocked his head to the side. Swiping a thumb over his split lip, he bit out, “You bitch!” His fist rose, but was stopped by Michael’s death grip.

 

“I’d advise against that.”

 

“Why? You gonna beat me up?”

 

Michael shrugged a shoulder. “I could, but it’s her you need to worry about.” He jerked his head in Vicky’s direction. She smirked.

 

“I’m not worried about a whore.”

 

The next events happened quickly. The man clenched his other hand in a fist and struck Michael, Vicky jumped up from his lap to return the punch, and Jason’s eyes widened in excitement.

 

“CON FIGHT,” he yelled, dropping his stuffed Pikachu on the floor and standing up. He grabbed Janet’s water bottle and flung it at the stage. “BORTLES.” The bottle pegged the moderator right between the eyes, and he went down hard.

 

Security converged on the group just as Michael was pulling Vicky off the bleeding miscreant, and Eleanor and Tahani stood off to the side taking pictures. Chidi had remained in his seat, and looked more stressed than ever. Janet high-fived Jason for his excellent aim, and the two shared a victory kiss. The rest of the fans were torn between horrified glances and trying to film the exchange.

 

The security guards stopped in front of the group, and the leader detained the man who’d started it all. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.” He led the man away.

 

“I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to ask you and the rest of your friends to leave, too,” a security guard said, giving them a sympathetic look. “I know you were defending yourselves-for the most part.” Her eyes narrowed on Jason’s smiling face. “However, con rules state any party of a disturbance must be escorted from the panel area.”

 

Chidi stood up with a nod. “I understand.”

 

“I don’t,” Eleanor argued, slipping her phone into her pocket. “That assface assaulted her, and we get punished for not putting up with it?”

 

“I’m sorry. Those are the rules.”

 

“Yeah, well they’re bullshit!”

 

Chidi groaned. “Eleanor, please. Don’t make things worse.”

 

“Fine,” Eleanor sighed. She pointed a finger at the security guards. “Just know I’m dropping this because of Chidi.”

 

“And we thank him,” the security guard returned, deadpan.

 

“You should.”

 

“Aw, man,” Jason whined, “I wanted to hear more about the ducks.”

 

“We’ll go see some ducks at a park later,” Janet promised. Jason perked up.

 

Surprisingly, neither Michael nor Vicky said anything. The two silently followed the security guards, and the rest of the group trailed behind.

 

Eleanor nudged Tahani and hissed, “They’re holding hands!”

 

Tahani’s eyes widened at the sight, and she grinned at Eleanor. She took a picture, and, when Chidi glanced over, pretended to check the time. “We’re only missing the last twenty minutes. It’s fine.”

 

Chidi eyed her suspiciously, but didn’t say anything.

 

The security guards remained with them until they were back at the con’s entrance. “Now, you’re fine to attend other con activities, but you’re banned from the panels. Do not try to sneak in. If you’re caught, you’ll be banned from all future cons hosted here.”

 

“That sounds fair,” Chidi agreed. The security guards walked away, and he slid down the wall with his hands covering his face. “My first con, and there’s already a risk of getting banned.”

 

Eleanor sat down beside him, and patted his shoulder. “There, there, bud.”

 

Michael and Vicky stood off to the side; hands still clasped together, and avoided looking at the other.

 

Clearing his throat, Michael scuffed a foot on the carpet before turning towards Vicky. “I think we can both agree that, given the circumstances, that didn’t count as me pulling away.”

 

Vicky stared a moment, and then her lips quirked up. “Hm, I don’t know about that,” she mused, lifting her free hand to brush against the bruise blossoming on his chin. “You might have to convince me.”

 

“Oh? How would you like me to do that?” He leaned into her touch.

 

Dropping his hand, Vicky pulled back a moment and retrieved something from her pocket. She slid an arm around his waist, and slipped it in his back pocket. Pulling herself up by his arm, she whispered, “I think you can figure that one out for yourself. 206.” She turned away and walked toward the exit.

 

Michael reached back to pull the object out from his pocket. Realizing what it was, he chuckled. “Indeed. I can,” he said to the space where she’d stood.

 

Eleanor appeared at his elbow to look at it. Her face lit up, and she smacked his arm. “Good going, bud!”

 

Jason joined them. “What happened? Is that a credit card?”

 

“No,” Michael said, gazing off in the direction Vicky left. “It’s her room key.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologize if the kissing scene was poorly written. I have no experience in that area (the writing or the doing), so let's just be content I didn't describe it as "mashing foodholes together." lol
> 
> I don't intend to expand on this premise, but I could possibly write an epilogue later. Review and let me know if you'd want one.


End file.
